


Tasty Tryst

by dark_muse_iris



Series: Working Man Bangtan [1]
Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Bad Puns, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Farmer!Taehyung, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Food Kink, Mushy, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Outdoor Sex, POV Second Person, Pining, Reader-Insert, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Content, Smut, Strawberries, Unrequited Love, foodplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 11:15:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15338682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_muse_iris/pseuds/dark_muse_iris
Summary: It’s your chance to prove to your ailing grandmother you can carry on the family tradition of selling the best homemade fruit preserves in the county. When you arrive to your booth at the local farmer’s market, however, you discover it’s been placed next to the booth belonging to Kim Taehyung, the young strawberry farmer who’s been sweet on you since you were kids.Excerpt:"Well, well, if it isn't Miss ___."You made a low whine of embarrassment at the volume of his greeting, feeling your cheeks blush harshly under his gaze. His bright, welcoming face was the same as you remembered from last season, back when his hair was a normal color. This morning, it was the brightest shade of crimson, and you couldn't fathom why a grown man, a farmer no less, would agree to such a color.





	Tasty Tryst

The damp scent of the morning dew brushed over blades of grass always reminded you of working Saturday mornings at the local farmers’ market. Every weekend, starting in May and running through the end of October, the neighborhood farmers, artisans, and merchants gathered around to sell their goods and wares. The local farm trucks pulled up, lowered their beds, as the cracks of straining food crates signaled it was time to make some money. Laughter was often heard throughout the morning, as neighbors congregated to share the latest gossip, exchange planting secrets, or gush about how great the produce looks. And as long as the market wasn't rained out, each vendor expected to sell out of their goods before closing time at noon.

For you, working at the farmers’ market was your chance to prove to your ailing, aging grandmother that you could carry on the family tradition of having the best fruit preserves in the county. The recipe had been passed down through the women of your family for the last four generations, and you'll be damned if it was going to end with you. Admittedly, you weren't as skilled of a cook as your grandmother had hoped, not after having been "spoiled by microwave dinners," but failure wasn't an option. You woke early on that first Saturday of the season, feeling determined to return from the farmers’ market with empty food crates and tales of how the customers praised the taste. After all, it was probably the last season your grandmother would be able to hear the stories of how her strawberry preserves, the local favorite, were still unmatched by her competitors. And it was the first season you would be selling them alone.

As you pulled off the highway exit at six-thirty AM, you could already see how many of the local neighbors were there setting up their respective vendor booths. Your ears buzzed with the excitement that only accompanied the start of the season, but admittedly, your mind filled with the anxious thoughts of what could happen should you return home with crates full of unsold wares. As the jars jostled with light clinks in the backseat of your car, you pulled into your designated vendor parking spot, determined to put your best foot—or in this case, food—forward. You corrected a few flyaway strands of hair in the rearview mirror and flattened the pleats of your skirt, preparing to present yourself, once again, as the “prettiest preserves peddler this side of the train tracks.”

"You’ve got this," you whispered under your breath as you tried to ignore your nervousness.

Your vendor booth was small—quaint, you could say—but it was the standard size for merchants selling smaller artisan goods, like your grandmother's coveted jams. You gripped your crates firmly and tried to place them as delicately as possible on the hand-me-down folding table the farmers’ market vendor coordinator assigned to you. It was the same table as last year, and dinky as hell. Every season you worried you were going to drop the heavy jars on the table and the legs would buckle and collapse from underneath. Then the jars might roll away and your neighbors would erupt in a fit of hysteric laughter, call you "sweetheart" or "shug" and say “bless your heart” as they secretly judge you for how out of place you are. At least, that was how it always ended up happening in your nightmares. A part of you dreaded the idea of selling preserves alone this season. You told yourself you should have taken the young, hipster route and sold your wares on Etsy, but it wasn't your grandmother's way of doing things, and you were dedicated to making a strong showing today, with or without her.

Assembling the jars of sweet preserves according to flavor and size, with the handmade labels facing the front, you mentally prepared for five hours' worth of smiling, greeting, and sweet-talking. It wasn't an amusing thought, but you knew as soon as the clock struck seven AM, you would transform into the "sweet girl who sells her grandma's preserves," according to the cackling old hens who had been running this farmers’ market since you were knee-high to a grasshopper. Never mind that you just finished grad school; it didn't seem to hold much water in these parts. You would always be "grandma's little helper" at the farmers’ market, even if you were an adult running the business.

As you finished setting up your vendor booth and popped open your folding chair, you were interrupted by the harsh pierce of a working-class whistle striking your ear.

"Hey! Hurry up!"

_Oh god._

You hoped your ears were deceiving you and that your mind was just playing a cruel game of "gotcha." You prayed under your breath that the farmers’ market coordinator didn't take it upon herself to play matchmaker yet again this season, and set you up to sell your wares next to the owner of the voice you just heard. But as you turned your head slowly toward the direction of the whistle, you saw him: Kim Taehyung, the incorrigible flirt and resident strawberry farmer.  _What the hell happened to his hair?!_

"Well, well, if it isn't Miss ___."

You made a low whine of embarrassment at the volume of his greeting, feeling your cheeks blush harshly under his gaze. His bright, welcoming face was the same as you remembered from last season, back when his hair was a normal color. This morning, it was the brightest shade of crimson, and you couldn't fathom why a grown man, a farmer no less, would agree to such a color.

"Good morning, Taehyung," you forced a cheerful expression and offered your handshake, as is customary when you’re raised in the country. He grinned, drinking you in with his youthful eyes, as he whipped off the working glove from his right hand and shook your yours resolutely.

"Aw, you know you can call me Tae, ___. We’re not strangers! How lucky am I that we get to be farmers’ market neighbors again this year?" he beamed, looking at you with the energy of a puppy wagging his tail. "As much as I would like to stay and catch up with you, I have to finish setting up here, but seeing you again has made my morning. If you'll excuse me, miss."

He tipped his chin as he took one last yearnful look, making you feel exposed enough to blush. Upon seeing your involuntary reaction, he chuckled to himself and ran back to his truck.

You cursed yourself for enjoying the low timbre of his voice as he spoke, the way his stare pierced you. He hadn't changed a bit, as he was still very much the flirt you remember. Your eyes observed the spectacle as he waved his gloved hands quickly, directing the farmhands unloading the truck to pick up the pace. Before long, Taehyung's vendor booth—the size of three long tables—was filled with several boxes of ripe strawberries, ranging in size from one quart and up. Nodding as he mentally counted the number of boxes, he had the confidence of someone who was sure to sell everything today.

“So,” he began as he skimmed over the contents of your table, “will your sweet grandmother be joining you this season?”

“She's sick,” you frowned, eyes downcast toward your wares. “I will be on my own this year. The doctor said she’s at stage three.”

Taehyung’s demeanor wilted at the mention of your grandmother's cancerous condition. “I'm really sorry to hear that, ___. Will you please give her my best and take her some of these? They were picked this morning.”

Taehyung always had a soft spot for your grandmother, as was evident by the bountiful box of fresh strawberries he handed you. You smiled in sincere gratitude and started to rummage through your bag, searching for a means to pay him.

"What are you doing?" he inquired with eyebrows raised. "Oh no, ___, I can't take money from you!"

"Why not?" you replied, hand clutching your wallet.

He waved his hand dismissively, "Please, do you know what would happen to me if I took your money? Mom would string me up in the barn! Your money's no good here; those were a gift."

You noticed the corners of his mouth turn up in a smirk as he refused your compensation.

"Well, here," you retorted as you handed him a jar of preserves. "At least let me barter for them. It's not fair for me to get something for nothing."

He cocked his head to the side at your insistence, his eyes flickering with mischief. "You could go out with me."

 _Ah, this conversation again. Just like last year_ , you reminded yourself. To tell the truth, if you had met Taehyung back when you were in college, you probably would have been more than interested, but you and he had practically grown up together between you helping your grandmother every season and him working on his father's strawberry farm. You knew he was interested—having held a candle for you for years—but you just weren’t sure about the idea. After your last serious relationship ended horribly wrong, you decided that you were only going to date men whom you could see yourself marrying. As your family expected your future husband, whoever he was, to take care of you, you naturally spent your time hunting for men who were lawyers, doctors, engineers, and the like—someone who was or would become financially well off.

Taehyung wasn't exactly one of them, as his working-class upbringing made him a bit more crass and rough around the edges. He was definitely the opposite of the suited men with pressed shirts and clean hands you had been pursuing. And frankly, you didn't want to waste time with partners who you felt would be bad for you in the long run. Even if you were attracted to Taehyung's golden skin, angular face, and warm, calming gaze—which you repeatedly convinced yourself you were not—he was a farmer. He would always be a simple farmer, and therein was the problem.

Still, you had to give him credit; he was certainly motivated. He had been asking you out for years now, always determined to try again in spite of your polite rejections.

"Tae," you eased into rejecting him again, "I don't think that's a good idea."

He was ready for that answer, as he had been given it so many times before. "May I ask why? Are you seeing someone?"

"No, it's just...I need to focus on starting my career. I don't want to be distracted," you lied your ass off, but you didn't want to hurt his feelings. He was good to your family and he was harmless, other than embarrassing you from time to time.

"Hm," Taehyung paused and looked off into the distance, mentally evaluating your answer. You could tell he wasn't buying it, but his manners precluded him from saying so to your face, and you were thankful for those social mores in that moment. "Well, I'm disappointed, I won't lie, but I'll respect your decision."

You wished his rejected face wasn't so attractive. Every year, he grew more handsome and settled into himself, but you knew he would only be a fleeting distraction that would delay you from your primary dating goal—finding a suitable husband. Regardless of your feelings about him, you didn't want to risk spoiling the morning any further, so you changed the subject.

"So, what happened to your hair?" you grinned playfully.

"Ah right, well my sister needed a guinea pig for her coloring class," he ruffled his fingers through the top of his tousled head in a nervous manner.

"Oh, she's in cosmetology school?"

"Yea, she's almost done now actually. I'm proud of her," he nodded. "She let me pick the color. I thought it would be a clever marketing tactic to match the strawberries. What do you think?"

His boxy smile made you laugh.  _He certainly did match them._

"I think it looks really nice, Taehyung. It might scare some of the older customers away, but it suits your features well," you complimented as you tried to focus on anything to keep your cheeks from heating up. It wasn't a lie; on the contrary, you wished you were less affected by him.

"Ah, we'll see what the customers think today, won't we? They'll be here soon, it's a little after seven already."

You checked the time on your phone, anxious to get the day's sales rolling. As you looked toward the entrance of the farmers’ market, you could start to see the slow trickle of customers approaching the booths nearby. The beginning of the season was always a little slow, but you knew the traffic would pick up in no time. To prepare your sales pitch, you commenced arranging samples of assorted crackers and opened a jar of strawberry preserves in the hopes of enticing visitors.

As shoppers made their way past the vendors, you easily slipped back into the perky salesperson you had been every season. The smiles, cordial greetings, and semi-forced laughs at your neighbors' bad jokes returned to feeling natural to you. Taehyung's wild hair certainly did its job of attracting customers in your direction, and you were thankful for that. He was truly a wonder to behold as we worked over the crowds of visitors, let old ladies touch his hair, and flirted with anyone who complimented his produce.

"Ah, Jeanette, you know I would only ever buy pecan pies from you," he proclaimed, before leaning closer to her. "Your pie tastes the best." He finished with a wink and suggestive smirk, before receiving a swift smack on the arm from Jeanette, a very conservative woman in her sixties.

"You rascal!" she shrieked, trying to hide her embarrassment. "You're as bad as your daddy!"

Taehyung laughed openly as he waved her farewell. Seeing him rotate his shoulder to recover from the blow, you knew you couldn't pass up this opportunity to poke fun of him, just a little.

"You're hitting on old ladies now?" you teased with a raised eyebrow.

"Hey," he pointed his finger defensively in your direction, "you laugh now, but I just made Jeanette's day. Once she's calmed herself, she'll be back and buy twice as much from me. Just wait."

"You sound very confident."

"Works every time, honey," he boasted with an air of confidence. You darted your eyes and tried to hide how flustered his cocky expressions made you, which only made him laugh at your discomfort before he turned his attention back to his customers.

After a couple of hours had passed, your wares had barely sold. One jar here, another there, but it was drastically low compared to a typical Saturday last year. Your projections for sales were much higher than this, as you expected to sell everything you brought with you today. The miscalculation made you grow increasingly anxious. Meanwhile, Taehyung's creative marketing tactics had almost wiped out his entire booth; he was down to his last table of goods and they were selling fast enough to close shop early. You slumped in your folding chair, struggling to understand your misfortune compared to last year. After all, you brought samples and the visitors took them willingly, appeared to like them well enough, but they weren't biting after that.

"What's the matter, ___?"

Your thoughts were interrupted by a concerned Taehyung, a crease cut in his brow as he folded up another empty table and moved it to the side of the vendor booth.

"People aren't buying from me," you answered in a hesitant tone. "I don't understand, they took samples, and this sells out every year. Everyone used to love it."

The wheels in Taehyung's mind spun for a moment as he looked over the faces of the meandering customers. "Is this the same recipe as last year? Who made it?"

"I did. It's the same recipe; I made it the exact way as last year. My grandma would never forgive me if I modified it. That's why I don't understand why no one is buying it."

"May I?" he offered, motioning toward an open jar of strawberry preserves.

"Sure, help yourself," you said as you handed him a cracker and held out the open vessel for him.

His fingertips plucked the salty cracker from your grasp and gently dipped it into the jar of sweet preserves, scraping the side of it to collect enough spread for a trial taste. He pursed his lips over the cracker and slowly pulled it from his mouth, allowing him to evaluate only the topping. The muscles in his jaw danced as his tongue worked over the sample. You watched with interest as he scrunched his eyebrows in deliberation, then smacked his tongue against the roof his mouth.

"Hm, so that must be it," he concluded as he crunched on the cracker in understanding, the issue clear in his mind.

"W-what must be it?" you inquired as you stood closer to his booth, leaning forward to receive the secret answer.

“Where did you get your strawberries from?"

You were startled by the question. Why did it matter? Weren't they all the same? You got them from the grocery store weeks ago so you could make the preserves over spring break. Taehyung weighed the responses in your face as you tried to formulate an answer, but your wide eyes drew a blank.

"Let me tell you what it tastes like," he began. "It tastes like you bought imported strawberries from the grocery store. I'm guessing these are from Central America given where you live and the store you're probably shopping at. I don't know how many weeks ago you bought them, but they taste like they were picked too soon from the patch before they were shipped here, which is typical. Whatever you bought was not in-season, and they weren't local. That’s why it doesn’t taste right."

"You can tell all that from a cracker?" you stared incredulously.

Taehyung laughed as he spread his arms around, reminding you of all the strawberries he was selling. "Did you think I wasn't an expert in this sort of thing? You should wait and pick when they're in-season or buy them locally. That way, you can get them when they're ripe and taste the best."

"I just...didn't think it was going to make that much of a difference," you lamented, imagining the disappointment on your grandmother's face as you would have to explain why her recipe wasn't selling well this season.

"Why didn't you just buy them from me?" he asked. "Your grandmother bought all kinds of fruit from me last year, like she usually does. This year I thought maybe she found a farmer closer to where she lived. But I didn't know she was sick."

"I bought them over spring break because it was the only time off I had before the end of the semester to make anything. Ugh, she's going to be mad at me when she finds out I blew it."

"Ah, it won't be that bad. If you didn't have leftovers from last season, then that batch you currently have doesn't have many jars to begin with, right? Just dump them out and start over with tried and true local product."

"You mean with your strawberries?" you raised your eyebrow, catching onto his plan.

"Of course," he grinned like a Cheshire cat. "I mean, your grandmother's recipe deserves the best, doesn’t it? I'll even cut you a deal if you come out next week and pick them yourself. Mom would love to see you. You should visit more often, ___."

"You just want another chance to flirt with me."

He tilted his head like a man caught fair and square, and admitted it. "I can't help myself around a beautiful woman."

Butterflies abounded in your belly, but you wanted to beat them down rather than eat that compliment out of the palm his hand. You felt like you were sixteen again, and completely incapable of controlling yourself. You smiled softly, neither acknowledging nor rebuking his latest play for your attention.

"I need new stock for the next batch, so I'll come by next week," you conceded. "Promise you won't tell my grandma I blew it this morning?"

"You didn't blow it. You just began negotiations to reduce your production costs and support the local economy," he encouraged with a laugh, making you feel more at ease.

A small stretch of silence hung on the air as the crowds began to disperse. It was nearing lunchtime and the vendors' wares were growing scarce. The buzz of the shoppers dropped to a more peaceful lull as you heard the clanks and thuds of vendors folding up their tables.

"I have to start packing up for the day, but I just wanted to say that it was a pleasure seeing you again, Miss ___," Taehyung offered his closing handshake with a bright smile that weakened your resolve. "Please give my best to your grandmother. I look forward to seeing you next week."

You felt the warmth of his palm as you returned the handshake. "I'll be sure to let her know. I'm not sure what day I’ll stop by, but it will definitely be next week. And... thank you for agreeing to help me. I appreciate it."

"Anything for you, ___," he murmured as he slowed his hand and continued to stare as though entranced. You wondered whether he knew it was rude to stare, or if he just didn't care.

"I should let you get back to packing up," you closed awkwardly, placing more distance between you as you moved toward packing your leftover jars.

"O-of course," Taehyung's hand shot to the back of his neck to rub sheepishly as he was snapped back to reality. "Take care of yourself now and drive home safely!"

* * *

 

After deciding that a Monday visit to the Kim farm would look too desperate, you elected to go on Tuesday. As your car sat in front of the gated visitors' entrance, you opened the notepad application on your phone to review the volume of strawberries you needed for the next batch of preserves. You were definitely not stalling because you were nervous at the thought of seeing him again. And you were only wearing that sundress because there was nothing else clean to wear.

As you worked up the resolve to grasp the handle of the car door and let yourself out, you heard the sound of tires kicking gravel rocks on the ground. A farm truck approached, presumably from another section of the property, and it slowed as it passed by your vehicle. The bed of the truck was filled with medium-sized rectangular bales of straw, and sitting with his legs hanging off the edge of it was Taehyung. Your breath slowed as you beheld the spectacle of him: the soles of his boots caked with straw-laden mud, his tanned forearms exposed to the sun, save for the worn, tawny work gloves he was wearing. The bright red hair atop his head was darkened with the slick of sweat and matted along the edges of his exposed forehead. His dark plaid shirt was well broken in and discolored, dirty with evidence of laborious activity, while his face shone with calm satisfaction as he enjoyed the breeze of riding in the open air. He had never looked so good.

The moment the truck passed your car, you knew it was only a matter of time before he would see you. And sure enough, his eyes recognized you immediately, as evident by his sudden boxy grin and subsequent leap off the edge of the moving farm truck.

"Well, good afternoon, Miss ___," he greeted, partially out of breath, as he approached the open window of your car’s driver side door. "Are you here to make good on our deal?"

"Yes," you answered, trying to focus on his face and not the sweat drop trickling down the side of his temple. "I'm here for the strawberries."

"Wonderful," he replied with a wipe of his arm across his sweaty forehead. "If you'll be so kind as to give me ten minutes to get cleaned up, I'd be happy to give you a tour of the strawberry patch and we can discuss our sales arrangement."

"Sure thing, not a problem," you nodded, masking your partial disappointment at the realization that sweaty farmer Taehyung would not be joining you.

"I won't be long. It'll be two shakes of a lamb's tail," he said. "You're welcome to wait inside the house, if you want."

"Eh, I'll just wait on the front porch, but thank you."

“Suit yourself. I’ll be out in a few,” he finished with two pats on the roof of your car.

You hadn't been inside Taehyung's house since you were a child, and you had concerns of running into Mrs. Kim, his mother, one of the possible older women in the neighborhood who likely persuaded the farmers’ market coordinator to set your booth up next to his. You weren't 100% sure it was her, of course, but you had an inkling that running into her again would spawn a "have you found a husband yet?" conversation, and you didn't want to be rude and potentially blow the discount price you were brokering with her son.

After a few minutes of waiting on the porch and enjoying the soft, summer breeze, you heard the metallic screech of the front screen door. You turned on your heel to see Taehyung, freshly showered in a crisp navy button-up with his sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His jeans were clean—his equivalent of dress clothes, you suspected—and his feet rested inside much cleaner work boots than you had seen earlier.

"Ready for our tour?" he asked, jostling a few pieces of still-damp hair toward the side of his forehead. As he stepped in your direction, your senses detected the alluring scent of sage emanating from his body. Your eyes peeked at the small expanse of his chest exposed by the open buttons of the shirt, making your stomach flip incessantly. He cleared his throat, causing your eyes to dart back to where it was more appropriate. His lips pulled into a smirk as he raised his eyebrows in amusement, having caught you staring at him. "Well?"

"Y-yes, I'm sorry," you wilted under the pangs of embarrassment as you tucked your hair behind your ear and cast your eyes downward. Taking a deep breath, you mentally scolded yourself to get your shit together.

He offered his arm for you to take, as is customary of a gentleman escorting a lady. "What are you apologizing for? Did you think I wasn't also staring at you in your beautiful sundress?" he chuckled. "Careful, watch your step here."

You walked down the steps of the porch slowly, cleaving a gentle hand to Taehyung's clothed bicep. He moved to secure your hold by placing his warm palm over your fingertips. It was probably not appropriate to be escorted in such a way by someone who was supposed to be your future business partner, but you would be lying to yourself if you weren't enjoying being treated so tenderly.

"How's your family?" he eased into the conversation as you strolled arm-in-arm down the long path toward the strawberry patch. Taehyung was always polite in this manner, taking care to present the proper question between neighbors who hadn't seen or heard from each other in a while.

"They're doing well, I mean, other than my grandma. But she's still got all her senses. She asked quite a few questions when I visited Saturday afternoon. She wanted me to thank you for the strawberries, by the way," you said with a small squeeze of your hand against his arm. "She knew they were yours right away. What a memory she has."

"She's a sharp tack, your grandmother," he replied. "She is the best haggler I ever sold to, never paid a penny more than something was worth. But she has always been good and generous to my family."

Your eyes caught a glimpse of a smile spreading across on Taehyung's face as spoke of her, making you feel warm and calm in his company. As you continued the long walk toward the strawberry patch, you enjoyed the feeling of the sun shining overhead, the faint sound of the soil crunching beneath your feet.

"How are your folks?" you inquired politely, continuing to match his relaxed stride, step-for-step.

"They're good, really enjoying retired life," he remarked. "They made me promise to cut a good deal for you. I don't know whose side they're on!"

"My side, it sounds like," you quipped with a cheeky grin.

"I know! They must think if I sweeten the pot, you'll go out with me," he shook his head. "They want grandkids so badly, they'll probably try to fix me up with Jenkin's daughter soon. You remember her?"

"Ha! You mean that girl that punched you in second grade?!" you snorted. "What was her name again?"

“Louise," he frowned, shuddering at the memory of her.

"Ah, that's right. Louise,” you gloated. “Well, I hope you two are happy together in marital bliss."

"Oh no, it's not gonna be like that," he insisted. "My folks will just have to be disappointed. The time isn't right yet."

Those words dangled in your mind like a mirror hanging on a wall. "I know what you mean," you muttered. "I was asked why I haven't gotten married yet—twice, since I got home. No one seems to care that I finished my master’s."

"I care," he assured earnestly, "I know you were the first to go to college in your family. That's a really big accomplishment."

"I appreciate you saying that, but…how come you didn't go?" you asked, suddenly aware that it may have sounded rude to ask that question. "Sorry, I mean, it's just that toward the end of high school, it sounded like you were considering it."

"I was," Taehyung exasperated with a deep breath, "but Dad got sick and couldn't run the farm anymore. At least not well enough to keep us in the black. I couldn't let him work himself into the ground. Plus, he taught me everything he knew with the hopes that I would run it someday anyway. By the time you and I graduated, I had already worked all the jobs and understood the big picture, the journey from the soil to your plate, and it sort of clicked. Keeping that tradition, the life we built here, was really important to me. So, I made a choice."

As you listened to him explain, a sinking feeling settled into the recesses of your stomach. You had been wrong about him. The decision to give up getting a degree in order to take his place as the primary earner in the family, to ensure their survival, spoke to a subconscious need in your heart—the need for a partner who was also a provider, a supporter. In spite of his forwardness, he was a good man who was there for his family, whether it was agreeing to be his sister's hair dye experiment or foregoing his original plans to run his father's business.

"It sounds like you've given it a lot of thought," you said.

"I did," he agreed. "I considered what my future would have looked like had I gone to college instead. I considered the financial risks of borrowing money for school and decided I stood a better chance doing what I already knew how to do, which is this. I get to wake up every morning, enjoy the fresh air, free from debt and I cultivate something each day. There is always work to do and I never get bored of this, as simple as it is."

Your thoughts struggled with his words, a shame sweeping into view. You felt like the world's biggest fool for all the years you rejected him because he didn't have a degree or a high-paying job. Here he was, secure with his place in the world and at peace with himself—happy with his choice. And debt-free at that.

"You make it sound like a dream," you remarked, the fragrant smell of strawberries slipping into the corners of your nose.

"Aw, that's just because I haven't told you about the joys of shoveling horse shit yet."

His comment caught you off guard as bellowing bursts of laughter filled the space between you. The walk stopped as you doubled over, gripping your belly as you imagined Taehyung carting steaming piles of waste around in a wheelbarrow. He stood tall, laughing in unison, beaming as he soaked in your expressions.

"I'm sorry, I probably should have been more polite," he apologized, easing his laughs. "This is supposed to be a business meeting."

You continued to laugh, but agreed, "Yea, we should probably be more professional."

"Well, we're right outside the strawberry patch. If you'll follow me," he offered his arm again, which you graciously accepted.

The tour continued as you arrived at the patch's edge to see rows upon rows of endless green, with vibrantly colored strawberries peeking through the leaves like polka dots. Sweet notes of fruity fragrance hung overhead, making you hum in delight throughout your inspection.

"Beautiful," you commented, stopping to lean down and examine the fruit more closely. "You'll have a good harvest this year."

"That's what we're hoping for," he replied with a nod.

"So, what kind of business arrangement would you like to have? I'll need several quarts each week depending on the number of jars I have to fill. It would be quite a lot to start since I have to refill those bad jars from over the weekend."

"I was thinking I could sell to you at 30% off what I charge at the farmers’ market, and I'll have a farmhand take care of the picking for you. In exchange, you change your labels to show the produce came from me."

"Hm," you contemplated his offer. "How about 40% off and I'll pick them myself?"

Taehyung tilted his head from left to right as he calculated your counteroffer. "You drive a hard bargain, but I can live with that," he accepted. "You have yourself a deal."

He outstretched his hand to seal your arrangement. The contrast of the glow of his forearm against the dark navy backdrop of his button-up shirt made you consider leaving him hanging so you could admire the view longer. His eyes were kind, as warm and inviting as a fresh cup of coffee, with a lingering gaze that felt like reserved adoration. Taking his hand to return the handshake, you felt your fingers become enveloped by the sincerity of his grip. His hand squeezed yours as though to communicate an unspoken message, which you reciprocated by matching his amount of pressure and holding your gaze with a pleased promise painted on your lips.

He cleared his throat, breaking his view for a moment, then returning with a smirk, "Would you like to sample the product? This time of year, they're a good balance between sweet and tart. I know a good spot that gets some shade at this time of day. I think you'll like it."

You could tell by the low resonance of his voice and flicker of suggestion in his eye that he was inviting you to a place more private, away from view. He was making another play for your affections, but politely giving you a way out, a means to escape while keeping both your virtue and his pride intact. As you considered him, your thoughts dwelled on his words of support, his enduring devotion to his family and yours, and the way you felt when he looked at you: desired, but worth waiting for until the timing was right, like fruit ripening on the vine. The allure of his offer was as potent as the notes of sage filling your senses, the bond forming between you both, and you were done with refusing him a day longer.

"I would like that very much,” you accepted with a knowing look he understood.

Taehyung nodded decidedly and offered his arm again, but you didn't take it. Instead, you placed your hand on his bicep, coaxing him to release his arm and let it fall to his side. He scrunched his eyebrows in confusion at first, but as he felt your hand brush against his inner forearm and move your fingers to interlace with his, he made a clearing sound in the back of his throat, surprised by your play.

No words were exchanged as he led you to a more secluded section of the strawberry patch. The only communication which passed between you was the winding circle of his thumb into your hand, a tender assurance you were safe in his care. Your breathing sputtered as your excitement grew with each step that brought you closer to your destination. The fragrant scent of strawberries provided an intoxicating overlay for the endless rows of tempting fruit flanking your stroll on either side.

“Here we are,” he said in a dulcet tone. You were standing in the farthest corner of the patch, cloaked in privacy by the distance and the shade provided from the angle of the setting sun against one of the larger barns.

Taehyung let go of your hand to crouch low, running his long fingers along the lush brush on the ground, searching for a suitable strawberry to sample. You admired his degree of concentration as he passed over several choices, settling on a mid-sized berry that looked symmetrical enough to be photographed in a magazine. He briskly plucked the strawberry off the vine and held it between his fingertips.

"Have you ever tasted one right off the vine?"

"Not since I was kid," you answered, intensely focused on the fruit as he brought it to your lips. Parting them expectantly, you felt him place the berry carefully on your tongue. Puncturing the fruit with your teeth, you sampled the taste off the vine—equal parts sweet and tart, with just enough bite to surprise but plenty of sugar and sunshine to pull you in for more. It was juicier than you anticipated, as the fresh fruit had just been plucked away from the main plant where it had been receiving water and nutrients. You let your eyes drift toward his gaze as it fell to your pursing lips, reddening with the sweet juice of each bite.

"I might kiss you," he whispered, entranced by the way the fruit moved in your mouth and finally down your throat.

"And if I want you to?" you asked, taking a step toward him with a decidedly fixed look of interest. Upon hearing your words, he dropped the half-eaten strawberry on the ground and moved toward you, the expanse of his left hand moving to the small of your back to pull you closer to him. The press of his hand against your sundress was affectionate, as was his other hand which cradled the space between your jaw and the slope of your neck. He stroked his thumb against your cheek as he drank in the sight of you, taking a final look before tilting his head and closing the last of the space between you.

With lips slightly parted he pressed tenderly against your lush petals, saturated with the sweetness of strawberries. You accepted him without a second thought, moving against him to form the softest of seals. The fit was natural, secure, as your lips became acquainted in slow, sweeping motions.

Taehyung was the first to pull away, his pupils beginning to dilate, as trembling breath rattled from his heaving lungs. You knew he wanted more, but he was exercising self-restraint, waiting and reading your signals to gauge whether to continue. The tireless ache forming in your loins was all the sign you needed to know that you desired him just as ardently, the chemistry between you having the potential to be unparalleled in the next exchange.

You answered with a kiss hell-bent on the hopes of sating your hunger. Throwing your arms around his neck, you pressed your body flush against his, determined to communicate how badly you wished for this. He responded in kind by carding his tendrils through your hair to deepen the kiss, a low grunt emanating from the back of his throat. The open-mouthed movements escalated when your tongue touched his, passing the flavor of your strawberry snack to him with your massaging muscle. Humming against his lips with need, you felt arousal grow in urgency. Perhaps it was the intensity of the moment or the self-loathing at the years you could have had him, but you couldn't get enough. As your pace quickened, Taehyung broke away with a groan.

“___, I’m not going to be able to control myself around you much longer,” he confessed, offering one final chance to retreat. “We don't have to do this if you don't want to. I can wait.”

Your face bloomed in amusement, nodding as you traced your fingers up along his thigh until you reached his cock—then gave him a small squeeze over the outside of his jeans, compelling it to jump in your hand. Taehyung did well to hold back his innermost thoughts, but it was clear to you that his body was more than eager.

“I think we’ve waited long enough, don’t you?”

Taehyung huffed out a breath in relief, “Thank god.”

He lunged as you reconnected in heated ferocity, hands meandering as you groped with need at each other’s bodies. The wide-spreading fingers of his hands slid down your spine to settle on the curve of your ass, squeezing it as you rolled your hips against the tent firmly housed in his tightening jeans.

“Mm, someone’s eager,” he groaned. Hoisting you off the ground, his arms held steadfast around you as he knelt down and sat you gently on the ground. You leaned back against your elbows as you watched his fingers move to unbutton his navy button-up shirt. Biting your lip to tease him, you examined him working the buttons quickly until a raised eyebrow poking through the scarlet tufts of his hair made you too weak to remain composed. The rude smirk and accompanying wink could attest that he was clearly better at teasing than you. The need pooling between your legs was unmistakable now, as your right knee crossed over your left to apply pressure where you needed it.

“Tsk, impatient,” he commented with a feigned air of disappointment, opening the cloth curtains of his shirt and shaking his shoulders free. The sun-kissed skin of his chest was a sight to behold: toned flesh, smooth yet hardy, evident of years of manual labor tilling the soil you laid upon. Your sight scrambled to make as many visual memories of him as possible, and you yearned for the approaching moment where you would feel his skin pressed against yours at last.

Taking the loose shirt and shaking it, he added, “I may not be able to spare your pretty dress, but I can at least protect your hair.”

He slipped his hand beneath you to help lift you up, then spread his shirt on the ground as though it were a blanket. You hummed happily at his thoughtfulness, taking the opportunity to plant kisses across his bare shoulder as he leaned over you. Once the ground was safe beneath your body, he laid you back down, caging you beneath him. The heat of the soil seeped through his shirt and impressed into your back, but it was relatively tame compared to the scorching heat traveling to your cheeks as Taehyung’s deep voice guided dirty wishes into your ear—each wish paired with a nibble or lick along your neck. Your breasts swelled with each breath, falling from the top of your dress as they became bare and trapped in his greedy, kneading hands.

"You look so tempting in your sundress," he purred against your ear. "I bet you taste as sweet as your tongue."

You strained to soak up the timbre of his words. "It was probably the strawberry," you panted, eyes closed in pleasure as your nipples hardened against his hand.

"I'll be the judge of that, honey," he murmured, assuring you with a trail of open kisses between the valley of your breasts.

Your legs trembled as his palms traced along your calves, massaging tenderly at your thighs, as his skilled hands disappeared under the pleats of your dress. A focused expression settled on his face as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your panties and slid them over your hips and down your legs, leaving your mound exposed to his darkening stare. Traces of sunlight warmed your folds and reflected the glistening sheen of arousal that had been pooling between your legs since the succulent strawberry graced your tongue.

Upon seeing you exposed before him, Taehyung grunted in approval, maneuvering his body lower to the ground to bring his salivating mouth closer to your heat. Your chest tightened as you felt his hot breath ghost across your neediest spot in a teasing manner, making you whimper in anticipation of what was to come.

The first pass of his tongue against your sex was gradual and widespread, like a large brush affectionately priming a canvas. Subsequent laps from his eager muscle were inflicted with broad sweeps along your inner labia as your mind floated toward wishing he would feast between your legs forever. You smiled as the sensations suspended you in a pleasurable plane, your fingers entangling his crimson tassels, tugging at his scalp. Each pull of his hair made him more tenacious, compelling him to draw hard circles into your clit with the tip of his tongue. Moans escaped from your throat as you writhed under him, feeling his lips tenderly envelop your bundle of nerves and pull it further into his mouth.

As you laid there listening to him pleasure you between the lush rows of fruit, you heard another sound—a pull, then sharp snatch from the plant next to your thigh. Taehyung’s tongue slowed, moving south to lap at your entrance as you felt the warm introduction of a foreign object against your clit. You peeked down at him to find his fingers rotating a cerise strawberry against you, mimicking the earlier circles of his tongue. The fruit felt taut, heated by the sun and sin of the action. The little abrasions from the tiny outer seeds felt like taste buds against your flesh. Combined with the movement of his muscle licking away, you became swept up in the sensation of having twice the number of tongues between your legs.

The sensory overload proved to be overwhelming as you insisted on rocking against his tongue, making him growl and hold your hips down with determination. He pulled away from your heat but kept a firm hand on you to restrict your movements. You protested with a whine, urging him to continue with mewling pleas. His hooded gaze fell upon your body, straining against his hold, seeking release. He lifted the strawberry which had been working against you and took a bite, chewing brazenly as he let the juice of the berry and your body drip from the corner of his mouth and trickle down the tanned slope of his neck. God, you were going to hell for the thoughts that fruit was giving you.

“You seem berry into this,” he quipped with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “for a gal selling her grandma’s preserves.”

“I can’t believe you’re using that tacky pun on me. You are a dirty rascal!” you giggled, playfully kicking at him. “Jeanette was right about you.”

"She was," he chuckled, plunging his forefinger into your heat with a knowing look. "Tsk, you must want this badly to be so wet."

At that word, he added his middle finger, sinking his undulating digits further inside of your folds to sate your clenching form. Curling his fingers against you to find the most pleasurable point, he worked tirelessly to meet your need as his erection strained against his still-buckled jeans. Your eyes fell to the tent in his pants and your mouth watered at the sight as you imagined how satisfying it would feel to have him buried to the hilt.

"Tae..." you mewled. "I-I'm close."

"You don't have to tell me, honey," he teased. "I can feel you clenching around my fingers just fine."

Taehyung lowered his face to your core again to reattach his lips to your clit and suck again, rubbing the rough pads of his fingertips against your walls with renewed vigor. The onslaught hastened your body's race toward your end, obscenities and cries of his name spilling from your tongue as you curled your toes and finally spilled your juices on his fingers.

He lifted his face away as his tongue dragged across his lips, collecting traces of your slick sticking to its edges, before bringing his hand to his mouth and sucking his digits dry, eyes closed as he savored the taste.

"So sweet," he muttered, turning to snatch a strawberry from the vine. "Would you like a taste?"

Your clit throbbed as you witnessed him bring the strawberry to your wet, swollen folds. Still sensitive from the orgasm he gave you moments ago, you whimpered as you felt the firm flesh of the berry sweep along the warm edges of your entrance, collecting the dewy drippings of your sensuous nectar. Taehyung's tongue poked out through his lips as he concentrated on collecting every drop, his free hand moving to unbuckle his belt and free his hardening length from the confines of his jeans.

Once he was satisfied the strawberry had collected what remained of your arousal, he brought it to his mouth and tenderly trapped the fruity morsel between his teeth. Crawling over your docile and sated body, he hovered the treat over your lips, pausing to meet your gaze. His eyes were serene, a foil against the trembling excitement of pressing his body against yours. Your blurry vision slowly recovered as your pupils focused on his, then the rich strawberry he silently offered. The tender surface of the berry was coated with the creamy sheen of your cum, pooling at its tip like sweet syrup. Raising your head from the ground, you presented your tongue to catch a falling drop. Taehyung grunted at the display as your lips wrapped around the berry to take a bite, the soft edges of your mouth brushing gently against his.

He grabbed the base of his cock as you lifted yourself up upright and stared him down, chewing the strawberry slowly and letting your eyes challenge him to continue. He sat back on his heels and began to slide his hand up and down his shaft. You swallowed the fruit, smirking at him, then turned to rummage through the contents of your handbag. Zipping the side pocket, your fingertips dipped inside and fished out the foil-wrapped godsend you were looking for.

"We got lucky today," you breathed in relief, tossing him the condom.

"I'll say," he replied, unwrapping the foil with his teeth. "I was worried I was going to have to come in the soil. Could you imagine what would happen to the flavor of the fruit?"

"Not sure, I haven't tasted you," you teased, batting your lashes.

Taehyung tilted his head in discomfort, "God ___, you can't say that to me after I watched you eat the strawberry like that."

You smiled, amused at how disheveled he appeared as he rolled the condom down his length and pinched the tip of it to make a little extra space. Spreading your legs and lifting the pleats of your dress to show him the treasures hidden underneath, you purred, "You're not going to keep me waiting, are you?"

"Uh, you know how long you made me wait?" he remarked incredulously, shaking his head. “Don't rush this; it's not every day a man gets to be with his dream girl."

His words made your heart swell with warmth and assurance. A part of you regretted how much time you had wasted pursuing others when it was clear to you now that the right choice had been in front of you all along. Taehyung moved to tower over you again as you lowered yourself back to the ground, ready to receive him. He pressed the tip of his dick inside of you gradually, allowing you the time to adjust to his size. Your eyes watered—not from pain—but from the emotional validation you felt in that moment, finally being connected with your match. He detected the shift in your face, leaning closer to give you a fervent, intimate kiss, laced with traces of his tongue. You melted under his unerring touch, returning his movements and wrapping your limbs around his body as his hips began to undulate against your sex in long, languid strokes. His fingertips dug into the soft flesh of your thigh as he wrapped you tighter around him; he meant to revel in every taste, every touch, as though it were the last time.

The sputtering pace of his hips let you know that he wasn't going to last long. You certainly weren't helping matters as your core squeezed reactively with each meeting of your hips with his. You didn't want it to be over, so you wrapped tightly and rolled your body over his, switching positions to allow for the chance to control the pace. Taehyung sat upright, holding your body close to his, stalling the movement and giving you both a chance to breathe.

"I'm the luckiest man in the world right now," he murmured into the crook of your neck, planting open-mouthed kisses along your skin.

"Tae...," you whimpered, clinging to his shoulders as you felt his hands drift down to grab your ass under your sundress. His palms were warm to the touch, calloused from labor, certain in their intent to hang on. You moved to lift and drop your hips in time with the pace of his hands moving against you, your body heating up with each pleasurable drag and draw. Closing your eyes in enjoyment, you increased your speed, feeding on the moans from the man beneath you.

"Mm...that's it, honey," he groaned, tightening his grip to pull you down harder on him with each drop.

Each word of his praise filled your need and brought you closer to the edge, compelling you to intensify your pace until the slapping chords of your core thrashing against his body drowned out his voice. The pressure mounted as you felt your release approach embarrassingly quickly. You opened your eyes to see him staring fixedly into your face, coffee-colored pupils blown out with the ferocity of a predator. The twist in your lips as your face contorted in pleasure made his jaw go slack, tongue swiping to moisten his lips as you rocked onto his dick faster, certain the prodding pads of his long fingers would bruise. Strained cries tore from your throat as your core clamped down on him in a final row, making him hiss and smack your ass before he expelled every ounce of restraint, joining your orgasm and matching your moans with his own.

* * *

 

The sun had already set by the time you made the trip back to your car. The stroll through Taehyung's strawberry fields was a silent, pleasing enjoyment of the afterglow suspended between you, interrupted only by the occasional chorus of chirping crickets. As your vehicle came into view, your fingers interlaced with his, clinging securely as if to hold on to the bond for a longer duration. He brought your hand to his mouth and planted his lips in a soft, gentle kiss, before lowering your arm and caressing your hand with a tender, rotating thumb. You were going to miss this, but you were unsure how to end an evening like this without summoning the awkward conversation about what it might mean.  _Did it mean anything?_

"Thank you for letting me come by to broker our deal in person," you concluded, trying to remain as cordial as possible. "I’ll come by in a few days to get the berries I need. Please tell your family I greatly appreciate it."

"Don't do that," he mumbled, sounding wounded.

"Do what?"

"Don't reject me again," he clarified, dropping the hold on your hand to cradle your cheek, giving you goosebumps. "You know there's something here. Let me take you out so we can see what it is, at least. I know I'm not rich or well-educated like your past relationships, but I can make you happy. Please let me have that chance before you get in the car and forget this ever happened."

A pang of guilt hit your chest as you were reminded of your past judgments of him. He was right; there was something there and it would be unfair to not at least consider him given all that had taken place that afternoon in the strawberry patch, all the feelings that were starting to move to the foreground.

You looked at him as he waited, anticipating your answer with a sense of dread as if he already knew your choice. Ruffling his hair to break his focus, you smiled and moved to wrap your arms around him in a closing embrace.

"I’m berry interested in seeing where this leads," you whispered against the shell of his ear, hearing his laughter as he wrapped his arms in return.


End file.
